Look At Me
by J-Dove
Summary: Male Veelas don't exist. But Draco did. And Draco also knew that Harry, Gryffindor, golden-child, and the boy-who-lived, was his Mate. This wouldn't be a problem, if Draco wasn't completely in love with him. A bit AU. Veela!Draco.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I shouldn't write this. There is so many other things I should be working on, but I want to write** _ **this.**_

 **I feel so guilty.**

 **Chapter One**

On June 5th, 1980, a baby's squalls filled the crisp evening air. This child, this _impossibility_ , looked perfectly normal. His head had a few strands of light, almost translucent, blonde hair. If his eyes, squeezed shut in aggravation, were to open, one could see the beautiful blue that was only present in the young and innocent.

It was hard to believe he could be anything but human.

Perhaps this was why Lucius Malfoy, a well-known pureblood supremacist, smiled in satisfaction upon holding his newborn child. Perhaps this was why his wife, Narcissa Malfoy, and part-veela (sealed as her heritage was), was smiling in relief upon seeing her- _It's a boy! A boy a boy aboya **boy-**_ son's delicate visage.

Perhaps this was why he was named Draco, the dragon. Draco Lucius Malfoy, after his father's name and his mother's traditions.

Perhaps...

* * *

 _Two Years Old_

Draco was a curious child.

Not in the way that his actions were curious, requiring contemplation or in anyway mysterious. Rather, it the fact that his first and favorite word was 'why,' followed closely by 'how.'

'Mother' and 'Father' came later.

Now around two years old, Draco toddled shakily towards his mother, before tripping halfway there. Narcissa laughed, crossing the remaining distance to coo and praise her precious son.

"Maman," Draco called. "Why?"

"Why what, my Little Dragon?" Narcissa crooned. Normally a witch of her standing would leave raising the child in the early years to the house elves, so as not to soil herself with matronly work. Even so, Narcissa had always had a soft spot for children, her child in particular. Lucius was tolerant to her compassion, especially since the Dark Lord was defeated less than a year ago. With the war over, sentimentality was widespread.

"Why... big?" he said with hesitation. Sometimes he would do that, say his favorite word for no reason, and when asked to follow up, would randomly pair it up with another word. Narcissa didn't mind. All the more for him to learn!

"Maman is big so she can carry Draco," Narcissa answered, her arms enclosing his form only to lift him so that his feet were left dangling in the air.

A wide smile overtook her son's childish features. His eyes, which had since lightened to a pale grey the color of ash, lit up in happiness. "Ah! Aaah! Ahahaha!"

How Narcissa adored her son. She was so glad he had been born a boy, and not Veela.

* * *

 _Five Years Old_

Draco was so confused. Why was Maman staring like that? Draco just wanted to show her the pretty wings on his back! They were as long as his arms, and the feathers were a nice shiny silver. Maman liked the color silver!

"D-draco-" she choked, her eyes glancing around frantically in fear-why was she so scared? Draco wasn't scary!- as she gathered him in her arms. "You didn't show anyone else your pretty wings, did you?"

"No, Maman," Draco answered obediently. See, he was a good boy! Why wasn't she praising him?

Her pale grayish-blue eyes, like chips of ice, finally focused back on him. She licked her lips nervously before speaking again. "Draco," she started shakily, "my Little Dragon. You have to do something really important for Maman, okay? You have to keep the p-pretty wings a secret."

"Why?" he demanded. Draco didn't like keeping secrets. If he kept secrets, people wouldn't praise him for things.

"Because the pretty wings are bad. If Draco doesn't keep the pretty wings a secret, he'll be a very bad boy," she scolded more firmly.

Draco's eyes widened in shock. Draco didn't want to be a bad boy!

"Can I... can I tell Father?" Draco whispered. Draco could tell Father anything. Father said so himself!

She laughed then, her eyes tight with painful sadness. "No. _Especially_ not your father."

* * *

 _Six Years Old_

Draco glanced around nervously, his hands fisted tightly in his mother's robes. He had never been outside the Manor before, but now he was in a big house (not as big as the Manor, though) with gaudy decorations. Gaudy, not expensive. Maman taught him the difference.

Maman smiled down at him warmly, before her expression evened out as a person came to greet them.

"Narcissa," the lady, with dark blonde hair and lightly tan skin, smiled coolly as she greeted them. Well... greeted Maman.

"Lady Greengrass," Maman smiled stiffly. It looked like it felt unpleasant to do. Draco tried doing it as well, but it hurt his cheeks.

The other lady chuckled smoothly. It sounded dark and velvety, but not as nice as Maman's laugh. "Please, do call me Rachelle. We are friends, after all."

"Indeed," Maman agreed. Pressed against her as he was, Draco could feel her knee flex restlessly.

"Well, let us join the others. I am so glad you decided to attend my Pumsavana Seemantham. I see you brought young Master Draco as well," she glanced at him dismissively. Draco decided he didn't like her.

"Of course," came the neutral reply.

They moved to another room deeper in the house. It had low lighting, and invisible musicians played violins in the background.

Maman wordlessly nudged him towards a group of children his age playing with dancing dolls. The little figurines would jerkily twirl themselves, even as chubby fingers knocked them down so that they had to pick themselves up before resuming.

Draco took the cue, _subtly_ he might add, and joined them.

"Hi..." He whispered, but no one heard him. He cleared his throat before speaking again in the clear, aristocratic voice Father taught him. "Hello."

A girl with the same cool features as her mother flicked her gaze up to meet his. Beside her sat a smaller girl with similar features but dark, chestnut hair. "Hello."

The rest of the time was spent in relative silence as they played with a menagerie of magical toys to choose from. Draco was particularly fascinated by a small cube that fluttered within a flock of similar cubes on violet wings. The way they danced in the air so easily made him envious, to the point that his back flexed with suppressed longing of broomless flight. He wasn't allowed to fly on his wings, but sometimes he'd bring them out at night and flap them in his room.

Draco noticed something strange. The other boys kept glancing at him funny, and their faces would go all red whenever they met his eyes. One boy, with pale skin and ebony hair, stood up as if to approach him.

That was when Maman came back. She gazed at them and took in the situation with tightly pursed lips. Hastily muttering congratulations, Maman threw some powder in the fireplace and muttered a few words under her breath. They stepped into it and were spit out back at the Manor.

"Little Dragon," she said, sitting across from him once they were safely ensconced in his room. "I'm going to teach you something called Allure retraction."

* * *

Two months later, Draco overheard his parents talking about Lady Greengrass' 'miscarriage.' What's a miscarriage?

* * *

Draco couldn't remember when he first met Uncle Sevie. All he knew was that Sevie brought him cool books whenever he visited, and that he smelled like musty herbs and iron.

Draco liked Sevie. Draco liked Sevie even more than Father.

Did that make Draco a bad boy?

 **I don't think I'm ready to write something like this. There is this plot I have a vague idea of... How the fuck am I going to write that?**

 **And, um, I don't know how to make this more clear, but Narcissa is a Veela. Her heritage was sealed, though, and Lucius has _no_ idea about it. Also, if you couldn't tell, Draco's Veela charm only affects boys. So, there's that.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I... feel like writing another story. Don't worry though! I'll definitely keep working on this!**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Chapter One**

 _Eight Years Old_

 _"A Veela's human form is always physically appealing, tending towards the lighter side with a notable deviation to darkness in the Pacific Islands (see pg. 180 Magical Mutations). A full Veela is able to transform into a secondary battle form. In this form their arms shift into large wings 6-7 feet long, similar to a harpy's (see pg. 153 Harpies). Their head becomes animorphed, with a raptor beak. Veela have a mild fire affinity._

 _The part Veela are unable to fully transform, and have retractable wings that generally reach a few inches past their fingers with their arms spread. Even so, the only other diminish of ability is their lesser affinity to fire magic._

 _Veela have two notable powers, Attraction and Allure. The biological pheromones of Attraction affect all genders and species including bestial, but only cause the Veela to seem sexually attractive when exuded with with the intent to mate. At other times it works to make the Veela seem harmless and a nonthreat. As of this time it is harvestable and can be used in potions (see Ingredient Auras: How to Amplify Them, by Henry Figgins). Their mental Allure only affects sentient males (see Females and Occlumency, by Aurelia Backwood). The Veela gene is passed down through the female line. There are no known male Veela._

 _Much like wizard and wand, if their wild magic encounters a male of a sentient species that has inner magic with similar wavelengths, it will immediately attach and bond. There is no known way to break the bond without killing the Veela or driving her insane. This bond is believed to have developed from the instinctual need to produce only strong and attractive offspring with complementary traits from both parents, as full Veela are not very fertile (see Zoomorphism and Fertility, by Selena Bobcat)._

 _Once bonded, the Mate becomes immune to the mental Allure as a side effect of the bond, but is still attracted by their Attraction."-Magical Beings, Creatures, and Beasts, by Louise Fennel._

Draco snapped his book shut with a frown. He didn't entirely understand what he read, but Maman said he was part Veela so this must be important to him. Maman should be able to tell him more.

Draco scooted himself off his entirely too large bed and before reaching the door, tiptoeing past several hazardously stacked book piles ranging from topics like magical herbs to astronomy. He would have liked to research spells as well, but apparently if one isn't able to practice spells immediately after learning the words associated with them, it would mess with one's conception of the spell, making it harder to perform later.

Draco didn't really understand that either, but Maman assured him it was true, so he didn't research spells.

Draco traversed several empty hallways before entering a large room with a high ceiling covered in plant like designs. He liked to call it the 'Green Room', because that was the color of the walls, ceiling, and floor.

Only inside his head, though. Maman had laughed at him the last time he told her the name.

"Maman," Draco said quietly, but even so his voice echoed slightly. The Manor was empty but for for them and the house elves. Father had left just a few hours earlier to give a statement for the Daily Prophet, denouncing Weasley's 'ludicrous claims of muggle attack enablement by purebloods.' That was another thing he didn't really understand, but Maman had told him that Father was just in one of his moods, so he didn't question it.

"Yes, Draco?" Maman answered, looking up from her book. Her form was draped elegantly on a silver and black chaise, a stack of books set on the floor next to her. Draco thought that she always seemed happier here among her stories, rather than outside the Manor with the other purebloods.

He shifted his weight nervously before he caught himself and stilled. Straightening his back, he readied his question. "Can you... Tell me more about Veela?"

Draco could tell she was startled by his question, but only for a moment. The slight wrinkles on her brow softened slightly with sadness, and she pulled herself to a sitting position, patting the space next to her. "Have a seat next to me."

Draco sat down, cuddling into her form without hesitation. He watched as she took a deep breath before speaking.

"I was a Veela, you know," she began, eyes distant. "Or at least... I could have been."

Draco brows furrowed in confusion, which she caught. Lips quirked dryly, she made to clarify

"When I was born, it was to two part Veela parents. My sister Bellatrix was only part Veela, and my other sister Andromeda hadn't inherited the bloodline at all," she informed him. "I, however, was full Veela.

"Of course, they couldn't have that," she said sardonically. "Creature blood in the family tree! Whatever shall we do!" she mocked, voice high and panicky.

"Now you must understand, Draco, this was only a century or so after Veela were recognized as Beings in Magical Britain. Even now they have limited rights, treated little better than creatures with the only difference being that us wizards are far to fearful of their nation to truly persecute them. Sometimes I wish..." she trailed off, a distant glaze to her eyes. Shaking her head bitterly as if to rid herself of those thoughts, she continued. "Because of this, most Veela still live in France, as it was the first country to accept Veela."

Here, she shifted Draco in her arms until they were making direct eye contact, as if to press home the importance of her next words.

"My sister Bellatrix was fine. Halfbreeds were not uncommon in Pureblood families. I, however... Did you know it used to be legal to kill squibs until a century ago? It's true," she affirmed at his wide eyes. "And, if you looked at it a certain way... As a full Veela, my wizard heritage was suppressed and I was unable to use magic, effectively making me a squib."

Draco sucked in a deep breath, eyes the size of dinner plates. "What happened?"

She laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. Draco thought that it was a laugh the color of violet, all soft blues and harsh reds.

"My father wanted to kill me," she whispered. She seemed to forget about Draco in that moment, caught up in her memories. Even so, her arms around him tightened, and Draco returned the gesture, drawn in by the moment.

"My mother begged him not to, to change his mind. To send me to the Veela Council for their care instead, or even to drop me off at a muggle orphanage, so long as I lived. They argued, oh how they argued! Until eventually, my father had an idea. 'We will take her to the goblins' he said, 'they will suppress the Veela blood and make her only wizard,' he said.

"It was a miracle I survived, Draco. That kind of magic... It kills half of those it is attempted on, and that is before they reach their magical maturity! Not that I could fault them. The older you are, the more deep the blood has settled, the harder it is to attempt. It was either then, the day I was born, or not at all. And you know what the other options were."

She seemed to return to herself, looking at Draco with knowing eyes. "But that isn't what you wanted to hear, is it? You want to hear about how it would affect you, not some ancient history."

Draco felt himself blush shamefully.

She laughed, and it was lighter somehow, less somber. "Let me tell you of your heritage, Draco, but first, promise me one thing."

Draco listened closely, heart thumping in anticipation. "Yes, Maman?"

She stroked his head gently, and her smile faltered once again. "Promise me you will keep it a secret, and to listen to your heart, when the time comes. Do not turn away out of a mistaken sense of duty," she whispered.

Draco sensed a story behind her words, but for now, nodded as solemnly as he could. "I promise, Maman."

She resettled him, until they were less intertwined and he was merely sitting in her lap. Her tone took on a lecturing quality that made Draco sit up and pay attention.

"Veela are always girls, first off. You are the exception, not the rule. Because of this, you must keep your heritage a secret to all but your most trusted.

"Secondly, there is no choice to finding your mate. When you find him, you find him, no exceptions, no backing out. Even so, or perhaps because of this, do not turn your mate away. Trust your magic to find someone you can love, as your magic is the truest part of you.

Finally, when you turn sixteen, expect a... surprise."

Draco tilted his head, but no explanation came forth. "What kind of surprise, Maman?"

"You're too young to hear about it right now," she smirked at him.

Draco forced the pout off his face before it could completely form, but it was difficult. "Does it have anything to do with my powers?"

"...Yes. Yes it does."

Draco sighed in defeat. Maman would not tell him anymore right now. She was in one of those moods of hers, where she was simultaneously playful and arrogant. Not a good combination.

"Thank you, Maman."

"No problem, my Little Dragon."

It was only then that Draco wondered how she knew the events that happened the night she was born.

* * *

 _Ten Years Old_

Draco lay in his bed, the lights off so that only blurred figures could be made out in the darkness. He should go to sleep soon, but found his mind wandering.

He wondered what his mate would be like. Would he be blonde, or dark haired? Would his eyes be warm, cold, clever, mischievous? Would he be tall? Short?

Would he like Draco? Would he be someone he could love? Draco had read so many stories of Veelas being taken advantage of by their mates, the only ones immune to their Allure.

What would his blood status be? Draco didn't think it could be pureblood, as he had already met most of his fellow elites.

Would he want children? Draco had not been sure if he could get pregnant as a boy, but Maman had told him he could. Draco was glad. He really wanted children.

What would Father think of him, he wondered, but quickly pushed that thought aside. He didn't want to think about that.

Draco's final thought was in contrast, his most dearly held.

When would he get to meet him?

* * *

 _Eleven Years Old_

"-and you will uphold the Malfoy name with dignity and power."

Draco waited a beat, and when it was clear Father had finished speaking, nodded his head regally. "Yes, Father."

With one last contemptful look, his Father swept out of his room, leaving Draco to sigh in relief.

Draco didn't like it when Father entered his room. It was always to lecture him on his duties and expectations for being pureblood, or another related topic. He would stalk around the floor picking things up and studying them as he went, flipping through his books, notes, _journals._ Judging, searching, _trampling_ through his territory.

It made something in his chest sink, his stomach clench and roil with suppressed fear and rage.

Draco didn't like it when Father entered his room.

Draco rose from where he sat on his bed, the only safe place from Father's _inspections_ , and moved to reorganize a few of his books, where Father had put them back in the wrong place.

A book titled _Our Stagnating Society: The Facts_ was put back with care, while _The Pureblood's Noblesse Oblige_ was handled with a sneer. He would burn the monstrosity of an intellectual work if Father would not punish him for it. It was one of the books he got him after all, full of bias and arrogance, and fit only to brainwash the young and innocent.

This lecture in particular was spurred by the party being thrown later this evening. The Greengrass were celebrating their daughter's Hogwarts acceptance letter that had arrived just the day before, and were throwing a big shindig while inviting _everyone._ As the richest neutrally aligned family in Europe, one could hardly skip out on it either, never mind the fact that no one else was throwing a party for their eleven year old child.

It was to be expected, though. They were the _Greengrass._

The rest of the day passed by quickly, with Draco being fully absorbed in his studies. Stepping through the Floo after brushing some imaginary dirt from his Acromantula silk robes, he soon arrived at the mansion on the other side of the network.

Draco ignored his momentary dizziness from the travel method and smoothly stepped into line beside his mother, while on the other side of her stood Father. There they waited to be acknowledged and led to the party.

Only a moment passed before a house elf (which Draco carefully ignored, lest Father took the time to batter the _Magical Chain of Authority_ into his skull again _)_ led them through the halls and into a large and airy room. Music and chatter filled the air, most taking the opportunity to commit clandestine meetings of both the Gryffindor and Slytherin nature. Slytherin being illegal and Gryffindor being... passionate.

Draco broke off from his parents to join the children, grouped together in a corner. There their clumsy machinations could be politely ignored, and they could mingle with the next generation of influential purebloods.

Immediately two figures converged on him and flanked his sides. Draco suppressed a sigh. He had theorized Crabbe and Goyle (he couldn't be bothered to remember their first names) had been told to become his friends _cough*minions*cough_ a few years back, and they had been following him ever since, often resembling a mixture of particularly slow lapdogs and slightly intelligent trolls. Perhaps he was being a bit harsh, but they were just so... stupid.

"Draco!" came a whisper yell, and he turned around to see little Astoria Greengrass, dressed in navy blue robes with silver earrings. She was two years his junior, happy as a princess, rich as a queen, and twice as manipulative.

"Astoria," he deadpanned. "What a pleasant surprise. Whatever are you doing here?"

She giggled, looking adorably sweet and innocent. _Not._

"I live here, remember? Astoria _Greengrass,"_ she said with exaggerated pride, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. At least, Draco hoped it was exaggerated. It seemed every generation of inbreeding either lowered intellect or humanity, and he preferred dealing with egos more than retards, as shown by the two dunces currently breathing over his shoulder heavily. Oh, what he would give to off them discreetly. Sadly, their families were important, and they were the heir apparents. _Sigh._

"How could I forget? Your effeminate presence bares no little regard," he said with a fake smile. Sometimes, he was tempted to steal his mother's wand and cast a Scourgify on his mouth just to get rid of the bad taste his bullshitting left behind. Truly, he was disgusted at himself.

This disgust was quickly transferred to Astoria, who preened where she stood at at the compliment. With no further preamble, she attached herself to his arm and practically dragged him to the refreshments table, his two silent monkeys slowly trailing after them.

 _Sigh._

 **This seemed like a good place to let off, so I did. Do you have a general idea of Draco's personality yet? Great!**

 **Also, how much should I bash Ron, do you think? Right now the plot calls for either stupid prejudiced Ron or jealous prejudiced Ron. So, either way, prejudiced.**

 **As a side note, who will be Hermione's new pairing? The Ron I'm planning on writing disgusts me too much to let him near any respectable female.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I've decided! This is going to be a drabble fic, just because it's easier to write. It has nothing to do with me losing my carefully written plot notes when I accidentally deleted it... Hahahaha... TwT**

 **Chapter Three**

 _Eleven years old_

Draco stared at the letter held before him. His hands had an ever so slight tremble as his eyes roved hungrily over the words written in careful, looping handwriting.

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 _Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

 _Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Unable to help himself, his lips twitched into a cross between a perfect Malfoy smirk and a true smile.

He was in the dining room. Around him sat his family, and the table was set with a breakfast of English spread, courtesy of their house elf, Tibbie. Father was reading the Daily Prophet, but his eyes did not roam the paper. Mother was absentmindedly buttering her scone, but would look up and glance at Draco every now and then in anticipation.

Draco knew they were waiting for him to announce his mail, as was proper, and he took in a deep, calming breath to prepare himself. Knowing only the rudimentary basics of Occlumency required by all proper pureblood children, he gathered his nervousness into a ball and tossed it into a box at the edge of his mind.

"Father, Mother," he began smoothly. "I have received my Hogwarts letter."

Father looked up from his paper and gave a reluctant nod of approval. He had wanted Draco to go to Durmstrang, but in the end Mother had protested the distance. "Well done."

Mother, in contrast, gave a bright smile. The slight wrinkles at the corner of her eyes creased as her painted lips curved slyly. "That is wonderful, Draco."

Silence once again effused the room, and Draco returned to his meal.

There was nothing more to talk about, after all.

* * *

Diagon Alley was saccharine, Draco decided.

The storefronts were colorful and enticing, with playful magic dancing in the air and a constant murmur of noise in the background. Everything was _whole, good,_ and _light._

The tiny signs displayed below the windows, denoting barred access to werewolves, Veela, and Fae were politely ignored. Within the pet shops, various animals held in tiny, cramped cages shifted and posed attractively with an intelligent, desperate gleam in their eyes.

There was a staleness in the air, the kind that asserted a certain heaviness that came with a lack of change. In fact, Draco couldn't see any difference at all from the last time he had came here. Or, for that matter, the first time.

All in all, Draco would have been quite bored if it weren't for one fact.

Around him, were wizards. A very large amount of wizards, with a variety of magical flavors. Draco almost feel a tiny bit of his magic sweeping outwards to taste them all, waiting for a chance to latch on to a suitable specimen.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that leaving the manor made Draco very, very nervous.

The first stop was the bookstore. It was predicted to take the least amount of time, out of all their stops.

The entire time Draco spent browsing the shelves, he couldn't help a slight shiver each time his magic lingered too long on a single individual. Yet, every time his magic would eventually move on to the next person. It was maddening, wondering if perhaps _this_ one would be his Mate, or even the next one. A complete stranger, bonded to him by the whimsical decision of his own magic.

Not saccharine, then. Insinuative, was a better word.

With a small pouch full of carefully shrunken books, Draco headed towards _Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions._ Mother had gone ahead to browse the wands, as she had put it. Draco knew that she had, in reality, went to pepper the wand-maker with questions. She had always been interested in magical crafts, but lacked the affinity with materials needed to become truly great.

Draco entered the shop, and greeted Madam Malkin politely. It wouldn't do to alienate the person making your robes, after all.

"What do you need, dear? Oh? A first year, I see... I'm assuming you will be needing your Hogwarts robes, then," the heavyset witch muttered distractedly, already scanning Draco's measurements with her eyes.

"If you would," Draco confirmed.

As Draco had needed not only school robes, but robes for formal occasions and casual wear, he spent an entire hour staying still under Malkin's wand and measuring tapes. His magic continued to roam eagerly, but when it began to jump from one wizard to next in what appeared to be frustration, he allowed himself to relax slightly.

In hindsight, frustrated magic was unpredictable magic.

When Draco's magic lingered on a single wizard, he wasn't overly alarmed. This was not a strange even. When the wizard, a skinny boy appearing even shorter than Draco walked into the shop, he was still calm, if a bit uneasy. When Draco looked up to greet the boy and met impossibly bright green eyes hidden behind round glasses and set under wild raven locks, he couldn't help but be slightly charmed.

Then his magic slammed down on him like a sledgehammer, and his breath left him with a whoosh.

That was... This... Green eyes... Mate...

"Er... Hello? My name is Harry P- _ahem,_ " he quickly interrupted himself. "Just Harry." The boy now known as Harry looked at Draco in concern.

Right... That was... Mate... Harry...

Yes. His name was Harry.

Draco was working on autopilot. At the moment, it was all he could do to keep standing and not fall to his knees from shock because _Merlin,_ his mate was right in front of him, speaking to him, looking at him, and he _needed to say something!_

"Ah. My name is Draco Malfoy. It is," he swallowed dryly, "a pleasure to meet you."

Harry was looking somewhat nervous now, and something inside of Draco screamed at him at the sight, because his _Mate_ was nervous and that was _bad._

Draco... needed to make a good impression. Something charming and playful, yet not too forward. He needed to calm down.

"Are you going to Hogwarts this year, then? What house do you think you will get? I'm pretty sure I'll end up in Slytherin, because my family has always gone there, you see," Draco said, and smiled. His cheek muscles twinged with disuse. When was the last time he had smiled like this, instead of an arrogant smirk?

"Ah... I don't... know..." Harry mumbled, slowly shrinking into himself. He allowed Madam Malkin to move him to a stand, and a second set of tapes flew to him.

Okay. His Mate was possibly a Muggleborn. Draco could work with this.

At this point, Draco was fine with anything, so long as he could get his Mate to like him.

"Well, there are only four houses, so it shouldn't be that hard to guess. Brave to Gryffindor, sly to Slytherin, kind to Hufflepuff, and smart to Ravenclaw," Draco listed in an offhand matter. He was glad Harry was distracted by his thoughts, as Draco couldn't help but eagerly drink in the sight of his Mate, trying to commit his appearance to memory.

"I... don't thing I'll go to Ravenclaw. Or Slytherin, for that matter. I think I'd like to go to Gryffindor, though," Harry said unsurely, glancing at Draco with a questioning gaze.

Draco was torn between being appalled and ecstatic. On one hand, his Mate wanted to go to Gryffindor, the _enemy_ of his house. On the other hand, _he was talking and actually having a conversation with his Mate!_

"Well, that's fine," Draco began slowly. "Just try not to completely lose your sense there. Gryffindors are also notorious knuckleheads, for the most part," Draco said carefully.

Harry considered his words for a moment, and rather than getting offended, seemed to relax slightly at his idea not being shot down. "I'll do that. It was nice meeting you, Draco." Harry gave him a brilliant smile as Madam Malkin finished his measurements, and Draco's breath caught in his throat at the sight.

He stared in a daze as Harry gathered his things and walked away, struck by the fierce urge to stop him because _he couldn't just leave him!_

"You too," he finally whispered, but Harry had already left the store.

* * *

 **What am I writing here? Let's see... Well, I'm mildly sleep deprived, hyped up on caffeine, _really_ need to finish my essay, and just generally amazing.**

 **I've decided I'm going to make Draco slightly obsessive. This fic may get a bit dark, but only if I'm capable of making it dark. I mean, I'll _try,_ but... Me? Write depressing fiction? Pfft.**

 **Also, I've decided that I officially love you guys. No particular reason. It may be the sleep deprivation.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Update! I've Updated!**

 **I've written more than half of this in one sitting. What do you think?**

 **(Also, how many people have Betas, really? I kind of want one, but, you know, is there some sort of unspoken requirement? What do they even do? Do I even need one?)**

 **Chapter Four**

Draco was in shock. After finishing up at Madam Malkin's, he had spent the last ten minutes wandering around Diagon Alley in a daze. No longer roaming, his magic lay deep inside him, except for a taut rope that vanished into the distance. Towards Harry, Draco noted distantly.

His Mate.

"Draco! There you are. Why didn't you come meet me?" Mother demanded as she came into view, walking quickly towards Draco. Distantly, Draco noted that he'd have to strip himself of the tracking charms Mother had applied. It was a throwaway thought, just something he used in order to distract himself from the more pressing matter.

And then his ears caught up with his head and he slumped in relief. He could tell Mother about Harry. She would know what to do.

"Mother," Draco began, his hands trembling from where they were hidden inside his sleeves.

Opening his mouth, prepared to spill every detail about his encounter, he snapped it closed when his surroundings caught up to them. Already he could see some nosy shopkeepers glancing at them in vague curiosity, in no thanks to their ornate clothing.

"Not here, Mother." Draco finally said. 'Later,' he added silently, sending Mother a look.

Returning the look with an inscrutable one, she nodded and with a sweep of her robes changed directions. Draco fell into place at her side, and together, they presented a unified front as they headed towards Ollivander's.

On the way there, Draco took the opportunity to organize his thoughts with Occlumency. He desperately needed to clear his mind before seeing Father, perceptive as he was.

He gathered all memories, feelings, and stray thoughts about anything concerning Harry together in one little bundle. He'd sort through them later, but for now he chucked them into the box he used for all his musings about his Mate. Mentally sealing it, he hid it behind some childhood etiquette lessons and felt slightly calmer.

Within his almost meditative trance, he was surprised when they came to an abrupt stop, and realized that they had already arrived.

Getting a wand was... interesting. Ollivander, as eccentric and mildly alarming as he was, was efficient in cycling through the available wands to find one that matched him. It was rather tedious for a while, until at last Draco was told to swish a thin, smooth wand made of a simple dark wood. Out of its tip shot a waterfall of silver sparks, and Ollivander leveled Draco a long, piercing stare.

"Ten inches, Hawthorn, Unicorn hair core. Reasonably springy," Ollivander mused, gaze unwavering. "An interesting combination, especially for a young Malfoy like yourself."

Draco swallowed, not liking the look in his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Hawthorns are usually attracted to inner turmoil and moral contradictions, and yet Unicorn hairs are the most loyal. I don't believe a Malfoy has ever left my shop with Unicorn hair before." Ollivander had not blinked once in his explanation, and Draco flushed in both irritation and a jump of fear.

Did he suspect something?

"Fascinating, though. I was so sure you would get Veela hair," Ollivander said, and Draco had enough.

"Seven Galleons, yes?" Draco asked tightly, and paid quickly before leaving. He also snatched up a wand-holster while there, as he had no desire to visit the place again.

Draco decided he didn't like Ollivander.

* * *

Somehow, someway, Draco made it through dinner without causing Father to be suspicious. During the entire affair his stomach was lodged in his throat and his heart danced in his chest with a wild, staccato rhythm. He was beyond terrified that Father would take one look at him and just _know_.

As he seated himself on the armchair in his room, he heard a faint knocking on his door, before it was pushed open silently. Mother's pale form entered gracefully before she seated herself across from him, reaching out a thin hand to poor herself a cup of tea on the table in front of her.

For several long moments the only sound was the clanking of tableware and their quiet breaths in the otherwise empty room. In contrast to the strangely peaceful atmosphere, Draco's inner mind was in turmoil.

What should he say? How was he supposed to tell Mother that he just found his Mate today, and that he was probably a Muggleborn, and he also wanted to go to Gryffindor and now that he thought of it his clothing was poor and oversized and might as well have been rags and that _Merlin_ he was already in love with him he just knew it and- wait.

Rags? Harry had been wearing rags? Draco had been so distracted by the fact that he was his Mate and how, well, beautiful he was-and here Draco felt himself blush-but rags?

Unconsciously, Draco's eyes narrowed as his grip tightened on his teacup imperceptibly. Rags. Well, that just wouldn't do, now would it.

The sound of a throat being cleared met his ears and he almost jumped in surprise. With a guilty start, he realized that he had been ignoring Mother for some time, lost in his thoughts.

"You wanted to speak of something, Draco?" Mother said, raising one, delicate eyebrow.

"Ah," Draco said noncommittally, desperately using Occlumency to slow his racing heart.

He should speak. Draco knew that, and yet...

Draco shook his head, suddenly determined, and firmly placed his teacup down with a loud clank.

"My Mate is a poor Muggleborn Gryffindor, and I think I'm in love with him."

That could have gone better, Draco supposed, as he watched Mother take a too large gulp of her tea and start coughing explosively. When she finally caught her breath, her attention had already withdrawn inside as she stared past him, eyes glazed.

"Oh... Yes... Yes, I see..." Mother began, catching hold of herself. "I assume you'll be wanting advise on your course of action?"

Draco nodded, completely attentive to her next words.

"Hmm... Well, this _is_ difficult..." Mother was silent for several seconds, thinking. "You could elope," she suggested finally.

" _Mother,_ " Draco hissed, appalled.

"Oh, hush, I'm just teasing. I'm assuming the boy doesn't _know_ he's your mate?" At Draco's nod, she continued. "Well, crank up your Veela Attraction, and woo him."

"Mother, you cannot be serious."

"Of course I'm serious. You wouldn't be the first Veela with an unfortunate partnership, or part Veela, in this case. I'll make sure Lucius doesn't blast you off the Family Tree when he learns of the marriage, so don't worry. As long as you still go to Slytherin and keep up your grades while in school with him, I don't see what the problem is," she said, completely calm.

Draco was speechless. The problem? She didn't know what the _problem_ was? Draco could see so many problems that if he were to write them all down, the scroll would go past his knees! He, he was poor! He knew nothing of wizarding life! The other purebloods would judge him, his status would go down! Someone could find out he was part Veela, even though he was a boy! Merlin, Harry was a boy too, would he even like him?! And, and-

"You love him, yes? What else matters?" Mother said wistfully, giving him a gentle smile.

Draco's breath left him with a whoosh as her words rang in his mind with crystal clear finality.

What else mattered, indeed.

* * *

Draco shouldn't be doing this. Crabbe and Goyle were following him, and he was behaving suspiciously as it was. Besides, he'd see Harry at the sorting feast, when they got there. There was no reason to threaten his cover like this.

Despite all his inner protests, Draco felt his feet moving him towards that persistent pull in his center. Towards his Mate.

At that thought, Draco suddenly wasn't so reluctant anymore.

As he walked through the train, ignoring all the compartments he passed by in favor for following that tugging sensation at his core, Crabbe and Goyle trailed behind him silently. Well, not silently. Though they spoke not a word, their solid footsteps and heavy breathing was more than satisfactory for announcing their presence.

Draco sped up, impatient. It had been _weeks_ since he had last seen Harry, and he was getting antsy. It was funny, Draco thought, as the train started to move. He would have been perfectly fine if he had not met harry, even now talking to his fellow Slytherins while pretending to be someone he wasn't in a familiar game of lies and manipulations.

Ever since that day in Diagon Ally, it was all he could do to think of anything _but_ harry. Dreaming, fantasizing of him, looking forward to seeing him again. Where once he preferred solitude, now he found himself endlessly lonely, craving the company of his Mate.

And this was before they had even consummated their bond.

Draco felt himself flush at that wayward thought, and used his Occlumency to shove it aside to think of later. In a few years. Perhaps never.

He was getting a lot of Occlumency practice, lately.

At last, Draco felt himself drawing near and approached a compartment. Though outwardly it looked no different from the others, inside he could feel the presence of Harry, glowing brightly in his mind's eye. With a sudden jolt of nerves, he loitered outside the door for a moment, before gathering what little Gryffindor courage he had and pushed the door open. He hadn't bothered to knock. The door wasn't completely closed, having been cracked open slightly, so it was fine, right?

Harry glanced up from where he appeared to be chatting with a stocky, red haired boy. Catching sight of frumpy clothing, freckles, and red hair, Draco felt an automatic sneer form on his face. While normally he did this to curb off suspicion from Father, Draco found it surprisingly easy to gather hostility to the boy currently sitting with Harry, surrounded by a mountain of sweets.

He wasn't jealous, Draco decided. Obviously, his father's mental conditioning had finally taken effect.

"Harry," he greeted warmly, first, because Harry would always come first. His countenance significantly cooled by the time his gaze landed on the other boy, and he frowned stiffly. "Weasley," he finally acknowledged.

"Malfoy," Weasley spat, looking at him with a gaze of obvious dislike that Draco returned.

"What a surprise to see you here," Draco drawled, forcing himself to casually lean against the door frame. Unable to help himself, his eyes spared a quick glance towards a certain green eyed, ebony haired Mate. Still absolutely beautiful, he could see.

Where had that thought come from?

Almost blushing, Draco ripped his eyes away to glare at the red head instead.

"What? Surprised to see me sitting with Harry over here?" Weasley said, strangely proud, and Draco almost furrowed his brows in confusion. Instead he forced himself to put on a cool, collected mask, the same he often used when conversing with fellow pure bloods.

"More like seeing you on the train at all. I was sure you'd end up a squib, if incompetence was in any way inheritable."

Weasley's face turned an unattractive red, the same shade as his hair. "Watch out for this one, Harry. Malfoys stink of the dark arts, you can practically smell it on them. Evil Slytherins, the lot of them. Besides, they're the _prejudiced_ sort of pure bloods."

"What, like you, mister I hate Slytherins?" Draco snorted.

Weasley merely glared, and opened his mouth to insult him again.

"Draco? Ron? What's going on?" His Mate finally decided to cut in, and Draco felt the anger sluice off him like water to a water repelling charm as he met those beautiful green eyes. Shame about the glasses, he'd love to get a closer look. Even now, he had the feeling he could get lost in them forever.

"Oh, just putting an idiot in his place. Now, however, I'm talking to you, and let me assure you I find this much more enjoyable. How have you been, Harry?"

This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as Draco watched as Harry glanced away with a strangely ashamed look. "Fine," he said uncomfortably, as if unused to people asking after his well being. This had Draco instantly on edge, as the thought of his Mate being in anyway unappreciated or disliked by the people around him had his metaphorical hackles raising. "You?"

"Are you seriously talking to him, Mate?!" Weasley finally shouted, puffed up with anger. "He, he's a Malfoy!"

"And you're a Weasley," Harry smiled then, previous shame seemingly forgotten. "Does it really matter?"

At that moment Draco swore his heart skipped a beat, looking at that kind, angelic face. The trance was slightly lessened when he considered the thought it was directed at Weasley, of all people, but Draco could tolerate that for now. Just so long as he continued smiling like that...

"Of course it matters! Like I said, he's evil! Just look at him!"

Harry did indeed look at him, and Draco fought off a blush as those stunning eyes inspected him carefully. Desperately searching for a way to distract himself from his growing embarrassment, because Malfoys did not blush, his gaze once again landed on obnoxiously eye catching red hair.

"By the way, Weasley, I don't know if you've noticed or not, but you have a smudge on your nose. I get that your family is as poor as dirt, but could you at least practice some basic hygiene? Or is that beyond you?"

Harry's gaze cooled suddenly and Draco panicked inwardly, wondering what he did. All he did was insult Weasley and call him poor...

Ah.

Harry was poor, wasn't he?

"Ah, s-sorr-" he began in a rush, but was interrupted by one of his minions. They were supposed to be silent!

"Yah, all you're money _combined_ couldn't touch us!" what Draco knew was Goyle said. He always was the dumber one, and Draco cursed him for it now.

Though the words didn't make much sense, Draco could see the exact moment that Harry decided that Draco and his cronies went from friendly acquaintances to people who just insulted Harry and his new friend _personally._

"I see," was all Harry said, but Draco shook at his voice regardless. Weasley, who by this time was broiling in anger, jumped to his feet threateningly.

"Well Harry is the Boy-Who-Lived! I'm sure he could do _way_ more than touch you!"

Wait. What?

" _You're_ the Boy-Who-Lived?" Draco said, aghast.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What, do you think I'm not _rich_ enough? Is that it?"

"No-!" Draco began, eyes wild and desperate. Harry couldn't be angry with him. He just couldn't!

"You come in here, insult me and Ron, and think you can take it back just because we shared a friendly chat at Madam Malkin's? I think its time you left." Draco felt his heart freeze and drop to his stomach with those words.

 _And you and Weasley have been through so much together?_ Draco wanted to ask, after hitting Goyle and apologizing to Harry and maybe proclaiming his undying love for him while he was at it, but Draco found himself mute, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth as what suspiciously tasted like tears clogged his throat.

He couldn't let Harry see him cry, Draco realized, and so face completely blank with an icy mask, he left the compartment, hands shoved in his sleeves to hide their faint trembling.

Of the whirlwind of emotions tearing his gut apart, including but not limited to guilt, shame, depression, and hysteria, it was anger that Draco allowed to grow within him, shoving everything else aside with a crude use of Occlumency.

Entering another empty compartment, he turned to face his following cronies and closed the door behind them.

Tears could come later. Right now, he had some punishment to give out.

* * *

Sometime between Draco leaving their compartment and entering the Great Hall, Harry had gathered another member for his group. He was short, chubby, and altogether pathetic. Draco decided he didn't like him.

Neville Longbottom, was it? Draco watched as the boy jumped off the Sorting Stool, only to run back to take off the hat he had forgotten was on his head. A Light family, though his parents were tortured to insanity by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He had spent a rather long time on that stool, too. A person to remember, to be sure.

(Draco ignored the niggling voice in his head that told him he was only paying so much attention because Harry liked the boy, and shoved it deep down with Occlumency.)

Crabbe and Goyle were silent and cowed behind him, and Draco grudgingly admitted that perhaps he had been a bit overboard with his punishment. Surely the liberal use of the scourging charm and spending a few hours under the body-binding curse wasn't so bad, was it? Besides, Goyle was nice and squeaky clean for the Sorting Ceremony. He should be thanking him, all things considered.

"Malfoy, Draco!" Professor McGonagall called out, and Draco stepped forward with a confident swagger. He resisted the urge to glance at Harry as he passed him by, as he knew that as soon as he looked at him he'd be unable to tear his gaze away. Sitting down, he allowed the Sorting Hat to be placed on his head and cleared his mind.

"MY OH MY, WHAT HAVE WE HERE?" a voice echoed loudly inside his head, and Draco winced.

 _Slytherin,_ Draco thought. _I need to go to Slytherin._

"NEED TO, IS IT? ARE YOU SURE, YOUNG MALFOY? WITH SUCH A WELL READ, ANALYTICAL, AND NEUTRALLY INCLINED PERSONALITY, YOU'D BE A SHOO-IN FOR RAVENCLAW."

 _Slytherin,_ Draco repeated himself more firmly.

"AND THAT LOYALTY! WHY, I THINK YOU'D BE A SPLENDID HUFFLEPUFF-OH? WHAT'S THAT? YOU DIDN'T LIKE THAT, DID YOU? WELL, YOU AREN'T FRIENDLY ENOUGH FOR HUFFLEPUFF ANYWAY."

 _Slytherin,_ Draco seethed silently.

"ON THE OTHER HAND, YOU'RE CERTAINLY CUNNING, MANIPULATIVE, AND RUTHLESS ENOUGH. VERY WELL. EVEN THOUGH IT TAKES A CERTAIN BRAVERY TO COURT THE BOY-WHO-LIVED, I THINK I BETTER PUT YOU IN **SLYTHERIN!** "

He almost ripped the hat off his head, but that would be undignified, so he settled for crushing it in his grip before placing it back down and stalking towards his table, tie now colored silver and green. Sitting down next to the other first fears, he made sure his mask was firmly in place before allowing his eyes to zero back in on Harry. They stayed there as he was sorted into Gryffindor, and did not waver the slightest throughout Dumbledore's speech. He made sure to place a cool, analyzing look on his face, lest the other Slytherins started to suspect something.

It was only when he was in the dorms, and he was sure no one could hear him, that allowed himself to bury his head in his pillow and scream. Slowly, the screams tapered off, only to be replaced by gasping, hiccuping sobs and howls. He was shirtless, and his wings were carelessly out in full view, and if he hadn't set up the collapsible ward stones his secret would have been out on the very first day in Hogwarts, but none of that mattered because Harry _hated_ Draco.

And Draco was stuck loving a Mate that hated him.

 **Finished! Haha!**

 **I'm really getting into this story! I'm so inspired for this! If you have have any suggestions, just let me know, because while I have a bunch of ideas, something in between would be nice! Oh, this is going to be a loooong fic~**


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